


To Borrow A Heart

by komu



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Pocket Blaine, borrower au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komu/pseuds/komu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine's used to being alone, but perhaps he doesn't have to be. A borrower!Blaine au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Burt never married Carole after the basement incident, but they did move to a new house. Dalton obviously never happened. Canon wise this probably takes place late season two-ish, but nothing is mentioned.

New big people had moved into the house. 

  
Which was good, because after the old ones moved, Blaine hadn’t been sure if he could stay long. They’d emptied everything out, and while they had forgotten a few knick knacks here and there, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive for long with nothing around to borrow.   
  
So when the new ones moved in, he felt relieved. He’d been down to his last pea, the one that was a bit scrunchy and dry. So yay for new people.  
  
He liked to watch them, because he was curious and they didn’t yell like the last ones had. They spoke in soft and gruff tones.   
  
One was scary looking and stomped around with heavy footfalls, and he’d sent Blaine running the first time he’d heard him. But he didn’t seem mean, per se, and he had a warm laugh. Blaine still found him slightly frightening, though.

The other one was younger, obviously, and kind of… really pretty. He had a sweet voice, light feet and a soft laugh, not that he laughed often. The more Blaine watched, he came to see that he actually seemed kind of sad. Maybe he didn’t like the house.

Within the first week, he picked up their names. Burt and Kurt. Burt-Kurt. Blaine might have giggled a bit at that, but nobody heard him, so it wasn’t like anyone could prove it.

Kurt - the gentle one - was his favourite. If his parents had been around, they’d probably scold him for watching. Borrowers borrow, they’re not called  _watchers_  for a reason.

And Blaine did borrow. He borrowed forgotten food, fibers and splinters to his nest - because it wasn’t a house, and not really a room. It didn’t feel like a home, either. He’d overheard something about nests on the TV once, and he liked that idea.   
  
He liked to borrow scraps of fabric and threads that Kurt left behind, to make clothes of. Blaine probably wasn’t very good at making them, but the fabric felt nice and he thought it vaguely looked like the clothes in some of Kurt’s big magazines that he sometimes saw. His favourite thing was bow-ties. Kurt wore them sometimes, so that’s where he got the idea.   
  
They looked _neat_. Like, super neat. So once when Kurt had dropped a tiny piece of red fabric, Blaine got it and made his own bow.   
  
It  _did_  look really, really neat.  
  
After a while when the family had settled and all the big boxes were gone, Blaine found that Kurt’s room was the best one. It had soft colours, interesting things to look at, good music and most of all; it smelled safe. The best place was the vanity-thing Kurt sat at every morning and night, putting odd little creams on his skin. 

So sometimes when Kurt was asleep in his bed, Blaine would slowly, carefully climb up on the vanity and sit on one of the many jars, sometimes watching Kurt and sometimes just taking in the nice, safe smell that lingered there.   
  
Some nights, Kurt cried himself to sleep, and all Blaine wanted to do was to go up and hold him. But of course he couldn’t - because was too little, for one, and besides, Kurt didn’t know he existed.   
  
During these nights Blaine went up into the big bed, ever so quietly, when he was sure Kurt was properly asleep. Sometimes he patted his hand, and sometimes he tried to push back his hair from his forehead like he’d seen Burt do. He couldn’t hug him, but he could make sure Kurt wasn’t alone.   
  
When he went to bed himself those nights, in his little nest in one of the hollow walls, his heart ached.  
  
He got the feeling that maybe Kurt wasn’t very happy at that school thing he’d heard about. He always came home looking worn and tired. Sometimes there were girls with him, loud, somewhat scary ones, but they made Kurt smile and laugh so Blaine figured they were good people.   
  
During the day when Kurt and Burt were both out, he’d go to the kitchen and borrow some food, and he’d look around in the other rooms for overlooked, forgotten things as well. Mostly he sat on Kurt’s vanity until he heard the front door open.   
  
Eventually, he learned that when Kurt was poured over a book, he got really focused and Blaine could move around his room freely if he was quiet. Kurt would wear a concentrated expression and sometimes his tongue poked out just the tiniest bit, and Blaine thought it was adorable.  
  
He could easily gather fabric and threads during these times - better than he ever could at night, because of the light. And Kurt usually cleared away the fabric whenever he finished with it, anyway. This was the best time.

It was, however, during one of these times, that the  _accident_  happened.


	2. A Sticky Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don’t know a thing about borrowers since I’ve never read the book (legasp!), so all knowledge is pretty much taken from wikipedia. And Nils Karlsson Pyssling, not that it matters.

In retrospect, Blaine  _knew_  he shouldn’t have climbed up on the vanity when Kurt was there. It was stupid, but Blaine could see the little piece of shiny chain that Kurt had removed from one of his many pins, and he just knew that if he waited Kurt would probably move it somewhere else, and then he wouldn’t get the chance to borrow it.  
  
He just hadn’t expected the lid to one of the jars to be loose, and he definitely hadn’t expected to fall in.  
  
God, it was sticky and deep and he couldn’t move. Why the hell did Kurt even have this? Why did he put it in his  _hair_?  
  
“Oh my god!” Oh god. That was Kurt’s voice. Kurt. Who’d obviously heard Blaine’s shocked squeak and the commotion of the lid falling. Oh god, he was dead. If he didn’t drown in the gel, first. Oh god. He was. _So. Screwed_.  
  
\---  
  
Meanwhile, and up until then, Kurt’s day had been fairly ordinary. And crappy, obviously, but that’s Lima. The Neanderthals at school hadn’t been particularly ruthless, but he’d still been slushied once and shoved into lockers thrice. Rachel had thrown a diva fit in Glee rehearsal, but then again, she often did.  
  
He was just so  _tired_  of it all. Mercedes had been spending more time with Quinn lately and Tina was pretty busy with Mike. He just... felt a bit alone. Or very alone.  
  
Things in general got a bit better after he and his dad moved - after the whole Finn fiasco his old basement hadn’t felt very safe, and after his dad’s heart attack they’d agreed on moving somewhere new, to a smaller house with just two bedrooms and an office slash guest room, without a bathroom that had slight water damage that they never got around to fixing.  
  
The new house was also closer to the garage, and it was newer - with notably better air conditioning. Plus, a fabulous kitchen, designed by yours truly. A perfect place to cook healthy food for his dad.  
  
A perfect new start.  
  
But while home was better, school was just as bad. Finn had gone back to guiltily helping the bullies, and what with Shuester and his blatant favouritism at an all time high. He just wanted a proper friend, someone that wouldn’t dump him for someone better when the opportunity arose. Was that seriously too much to ask?  
  
The only good thing about school was his AP classes. While not particularly difficult, because come on,  _public school_ , the assignments gave him something to focus on when he wasn’t sewing, cleaning, cooking, singing or...  
  
Okay, so he kept busy, sue him. Anything to take his mind of the backwards cowtown he was currently residing in.  
  
It was during one of these occasions of dedicated studying that everything changed.  
  
He was startled out of a chapter on the French Revolution by a sudden clatter and a squeak coming from his vanity, and he shot up onto the chair, heart in his throat and mind screaming “Rat, oh my god,  _rat_!”. He would have shrieked, if it weren’t for the fact that he seemed to have been rendered momentarily mute.  
  
Oh god, what if it ate him and his dad got home to a dead son? Or what if it bit him and he contracted some serious disease?  
  
What if it ruined one of his expensive facial creams?  
  
Kurt wasn’t particularly proud of this moment, but thankfully no one saw him standing there with his book held high, wobbling on a swivel chair. But looking at the vanity, he couldn’t see a rat. Instead, there were two tiny, clothed legs kicking in thin air, the rest of a tiny body doused in his tub of hair gel. A tiny, human-like body. What the hell?  
  
A tiny, human-like body currently drowning in his  _hair gel_.  
  
“Oh my god!” Before he could even think about it, he was standing by his vanity carefully lifting the small... thing, out of the tub by its pair of equally tiny suspenders.  
  
Tiny suspenders.  _God_ , what had his life come to?  
  
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Scratch that, he was certifiably insane. What was this, even? The thing - still flailing in panic - sneezed and coughed for a moment, and Kurt took this chance to look at it properly. Him. Because it was definitely a him, whatever it was.  
  
He looked - well, drenched in gel, for starters - just like a human, just... small. Maybe six inches tall. Probably six inches. He had, from what Kurt could see, dark brown hair, a well worn little yellow shirt, suspenders and a red little bow tie, along with a pair of patched brown trousers.  
  
“I-I’m fine! I’m-- I’m so s-sorry!” It,  _he_  exclaimed, and Kurt gingerly set him down on his feet on the vanity, clear of any jars. He figured his shock was setting in, as he himself sank onto the seat in front of it. He had to be dreaming, right? Little people didn’t exist.This was insane.  
  
“That’s... okay?” He murmured, the sentence coming out more like a question. The tiny boy didn’t seem to be planning his escape just yet, simply standing there, looking somewhat terrified.  
  
God, if Kurt was surprised by this small thing, what must he feel, staring up at him? Kurt must seem huge to him.  
  
“What are you? Are you real?” He blurted, not exactly proud of his words. Kurt hummel was cool, calm and collected, he didn’t blurt.  _Finn_  blurted.  
  
“I’m real!” The thing -  _boy_  - exclaimed in a moment of indignation, before deflating slightly. “I-I’m a borrower. I live here. Before you moved here. Oh, Oh god, you’re not supposed to see me, I’m so sorry. Y-You’re not... going to hurt me, right?” And he looked so unsure for a second, so honestly real, Kurt’s heart went out to him.  
  
“Of course not! You’re not planning on hurting me, right?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“G-good, then. So no hurting.” He sighed, relaxing slightly. This was so insane. “What’s... a borrower?” The boy blinked up him. He had surprisingly deep hazel eyes.  
  
“We’re... smaller than you, and we live under the floor or in the walls. We borrow.” His eyes widened. “It’s not stealing! I just take things you forget or throw away, like breadcrumbs and loose threads and such.” He elaborated, shifting slowly with a little wince.  
  
“Oh. Okay. This... this is crazy.” Kurt sighed again. The little boy looked somewhat affronted. “It’s just, I never thought something, someone like you... existed. It’s... okay. You live here? What’s your name? Oh god, how many of you are there?” Again, not too proud of his demeanor.  
  
“I live here. In the walls.” He confirmed. “And it’s just me! My- My name’s Blaine.” He trailed off, looking shy. Kurt furrowed his brow.  
  
“Just you? But that’s... what about your parents?”  
  
“My parents left with the old family that lived here. They... didn’t want me to come with.” And god, wasn’t that a heartbreaking notion.  
  
“They just... left you?”  
  
“Yeah. They didn’t like me very much.” He murmured, voice suddenly tiny and quiet. Blaine tried to shrug, but suddenly froze and stared up at Kurt in horror. “I can’t move. Oh my god what is that stuff!?” Kurt stared back, before jolting up from the chair.  
  
“Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t think. Here, let me help you. We need to wash that gel off.” He reached out a hand but stopped himself. “Oh, is it alright if I...?” He gestured slightly towards Blaine. Blaine just nodded slightly.  
  
“Yes please.”  
  
Kurt’s hands closed gently around the little body, gingerly lifting him up and moving to the bathroom. He helped Blaine wash off in the sink, using a tiny amount of shampoo to clear the gel off. Once done, and Blaine stood there soaking wet, Kurt hurried to get a small facial towel for him. He awkwardly turned his head as Blaine stripped out of his wet clothes, feeling like it would be impolite to watch.  
  
“Thank you for this.” Kurt looked back at that, seeing Blaine bundled up in the towel, clothes by his feet.  
  
“Oh, it’s my fault to begin with, I suppose. I was in a hurry this morning and I think I forgot to put the lid on properly.” He smiled shyly down at Blaine. “Would you, uhm, like to go back to the bedroom and sit down? Talk a bit?”  
  
“Definitely!” With that, Blaine gracefully jumped down, smiling up at Kurt after he landed. As Kurt situated himself on the bed, sitting with his legs tucked up beside him, he watched Blaine climb up and seat himself as well, practically drowning between the towel and the duvet cover.  
  
“So. This is... weird.”  
  
“Yeah. I never imagined talking to one of you. I mean, I wanted to but... it’s not  _done_. Borrowers aren’t supposed to be seen.” He explained, snatching up a loose feather from the cover and twirling it in his little hands.  
  
“I understand. But me and my dad... we’re not bad people. We wouldn’t hurt you.”  
  
“I know, I think. Your dad’s really big, but he seems nice. Not like the old people that lived here.” Kurt cocked his head at that.  
  
“They weren’t nice, then?” He paused. “How... how long have you been on your own? You don’t have to answer.” It came out timidly, he wasn’t sure if Blaine would want to talk about that, but he so very desperately wanted to understand. To know more. Blaine seemed nice, sweet and gentle, something Kurt so desperately wanted more of in his life.  
  
“No, not very. They screamed a lot and didn’t seem to like each other very much. And... it’s been a few months now. I’m doing good on my own, though.” It was probably meant to be reassuring, with the smile sent up at him, but Kurt couldn’t help but feel sad. He’d come close to losing his dad a while back, and if that had actually happened... Kurt didn’t want to think about it. And for Blaine’s parents to just leave him... it wasn’t thinkable.  
  
“You shouldn’t be, though. On your own.” He clarified, at Blaine’s confused expression. He was rewarded with a timid little smile.  
  
“Well. That’s life for you, I guess.” A shrug. “You have a nice voice. I- I mean, I’ve heard you sing a lot. You listen to a lot of good music.” Blaine seemed almost flustered. The sentence was sudden and startling, but Kurt couldn’t help but preen.  
  
“Oh, thank you. Do you like music, then?”  
  
That was the start of a long conversation. Blaine didn’t know many names, but he knew lyrics from songs and the plot to several movies he admitted to watching when Kurt happened to turn one on. Fashion, as it seemed, was another interest they had in common. He had thought he recognized the fabrics of the clothes Blaine wore - leftovers from Kurt’s own projects. They talked energetically for a long while, until a thought occurred to him and he quieted, smiling privately.  
  
“What?” It came as an amused question, simple and non-judging.  
  
“Nothing.” At the raise of a triangular eyebrow, he laughed quietly. “Just... I’ve never really talked to someone like this. Not without facades. It’s nice.”  
  
A brilliant smile. “Same. I’ve never had a friend, actually.” They both went quiet at that, silently marvelling over the word.  _Friends_.  
  
They were jolted out of it by the front door, Burt calling Kurt’s name. He stood and smiled again. God, he’d smiled more than he had this whole week just in the past two hours. “He probably wants me to start dinner. We could keep talking later? I can bring you some food later if you’d like.”  
  
“That sounds very nice.” With a final smile, Kurt exited the room, privately thinking that perhaps this day wasn’t quite so ordinary anymore.


	3. Tired

Blaine couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had he gotten discovered, and not gotten hurt for it, but he’d talked to Kurt.  _Kurt_.   
  
Actually, they’d talked a  _lot_. Hours after their first meeting Blaine had changed into fresh clothes, the towel folded neatly on the edge of the vanity. Kurt had returned after dinner with far too much food for him to eat, but it was delicious and wonderful to eat something warm for a change. That didn’t happen too often.   
  
They’d stayed up late together that night, talking about their lives and learning more about each other. Eventually Blaine must have fallen asleep, because when he woke he was curled up on one of Kurt’s many pillows, Kurt himself some feet away, sleeping peacefully.   
  
He’d apologized profusely for falling asleep, of course, because Blaine had  _manners_ , but Kurt hadn’t minded. Blaine thought that perhaps this was what some friends did.

  
The house felt strangely empty without Kurt in it later that day, when he was in school and Blaine had busied himself by puttering around the house, gathering fibers for a new brush.   
  
Burt returned before Kurt that day, something that rarely happened, and Blaine was content with listening to his footsteps on the bottom floor while he sat on Kurt’s vanity. They’d come to an agreement yesterday, he and Kurt, that perhaps it was best if they didn’t tell Burt about him for now. Blaine couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved - Burt was  _big_.   
  
He was in his nest when he heard Kurt’s footsteps go to his room, and Blaine quickly made his way there too. Once he saw Kurt, however, it was clear that something was wrong.   
  
God, he looked so  _sad_.  
  
Kurt fell forward onto the bed with a soft, tired exhale, and Blaine quietly made his way over, climbing up beside him - unnoticed until he reached out and touched Kurt’s arm.   
  
“Oh. Hi Blaine.” Kurt tried a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. Blaine had seen him like this before, but only ever from afar.    
  
He kept his hand on Kurt’s arm, trying to comfort him. If only he’d been big so he could hug him. “What’s wrong?”   
  
Kurt huffed. “School. People. This whole town. According to them,  _I’m_  what’s wrong.” He didn’t like the sound of that.   
  
“You’re not wrong, I promise. You’re the nicest, most interesting person I’ve ever met.”   
  
That garnered a small laugh out of Kurt, and a fond smile. “I’m the only person you’ve met.”   
  
Blaine grinned. “Still.” He patted Kurt’s arm absently. “Do you want to talk about it?”   
  
“You’d listen?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Kurt sighed. “It’s just, everyone keeps shoving me around and calling me names. The ones that don’t actively participate watch and refuse to help. Even the people who are supposed to be my friends.” He sat, looking down at Blaine with a small smile, seemingly a bit better. “They’re not like you. It’s just… hard. To take it every day and pretend it doesn’t hurt.” His head thumped back against the wall, and Blaine felt like fussing over him.  
  
“They shouldn’t do that.”  
  
A grateful smile. “No, they shouldn’t.”

“I wish I could help.”   
  
Kurt looked surprised, before his face changed into something softer. “You do.” 

Blaine wasn’t sure what to say to that. They were quiet for a while, simply taking in each other’s company, until Kurt tapped his head with a finger. “Tell me about your day.”   
  
No one had ever asked that of him. It was kind of thrilling, actually. Blaine told him about looking for fibers, about finding a little metal clip under the sofa, about sitting around and watching the birds outside. Kurt laughed loudly when he complained about the neighbourhood cat that would chase them away.   
  
Well past dinner, and after he’d watched Kurt study for a while, they ended up in Kurt’s bed again, looking through one of his many magazines, both gushing over the clothes.   
  
The bed, Blaine came to find, was probably his new favourite place. He’d never really dared to go up in it before, other than to pat at Kurt’s hand or hair. He always kept it so neat, and Blaine didn’t want to mess it up. The few times he had been in it had been quiet and so very careful, and he’d never taken the chance to just sit and take it in.  
  
It smelled even better than the vanity did.   
  
Also, no hair gel.  
  
“This is probably my new favourite place.”  _Shit_. He hadn’t meant to say it  _out loud_.    
  
Kurt looked surprised, but before Blaine could launch into an apology, he giggled.  
  
 _Giggled_.  
  
“That’s— you had a favourite place before?” The tone was light, almost teasing. Blaine shrugged and grinned lopsidedly.   
  
“Kind of. I just really like your vanity, but your bed is even better. Is that weird?”   
  
Kurt laughed again. “Probably. I don’t mind, though.” His smile dimmed slightly, and he yawned. “Blaine?”  
  
He wasn’t sure how to place Kurt’s expression. “Mmm?”   
  
“Would you… stay here? Tonight, I mean.” When Blaine didn’t immediately answer, too surprised to do so, he continued in a rush. “It’s just that I don’t like the idea of you going into a  _wall_ , all by yourself, and I slept better last night than I have in ages. It was nice to have someone there. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” At that Blaine finally got his tongue back, grinning widely up at Kurt’s currently flustered face.  
  
“Really? I’d really like that, Kurt. With permission this time.”   
  
He was rewarded with a small smile and a tap on the head. “Silly.” Kurt murmured, but his tone was fond.   
  
Blaine himself would be kicking excitedly if it weren’t for the attention. Stay in Kurt’s  _bed_.   
  
Way better than his nest.   
  
He watched as Kurt went through his nightly ritual, and Kurt watched - laughed - as Blaine explored beneath the duvet.   
  
When they finally settled, side by side, Blaine listened to Kurt hum a few bars of some song before burrowing down properly beneath the many blankets. Blaine himself and pushed at a pillow so he was pretty much surrounded by it, covered in a stretch of the duvet.  
  
“I really am glad to have you as a friend, Blaine.”   
  
He sighed. “Me too. I didn’t even think it was possible.” He grinned at what little of Kurt’s face he could see, the majority hidden beneath the covers. “I’m happy it was, though.”  
  
Another infectious yawn. “Same. Good night, Blaine.”   
  
He smiled. “Night, Kurt.”


	4. Handade

The sun was much too bright in the morning. Kurt groaned and stretched, twisting slightly with his arms above his head. A small figure in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he smiled. These last few days talking to Blaine, having Blaine  _there_ , had been the best of his life. It felt so good to finally be understood by someone.   
  
It was also kind of really nice to share his bed with someone, even if that someone didn’t take up much space.

  
Blaine was still asleep, breathing softly, face relaxed and hands curled around a piece of the duvet. It was strange to think that they’d met just a week ago, when they seemed so close already. He smiled to himself. Like they’d known each other forever.  
  
It was a silly notion. It still felt like truth, though.   
  
He watched as Blaine shifted, eyelids fluttering and opening, looking around in confusion before coming around properly.   
  
“Morning.” Kurt chirped, getting up. It felt oddly intimate staying in bed together in the morning, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. God, he wasn’t  _creepy_. So he got up, ignored Blaine as he stretched, and went about gathering his things to take into the bathroom.   
  
“…‘rning” The greeting came in the middle of a yawn, and Kurt smiled. Blaine was so  _slow_  in the mornings.  
  
He left Blaine in his room, going about his morning and once dressed - went downstairs with a now awake Blaine to eat breakfast before leaving for school. His dad was already at work, so they didn’t have to worry about Blaine being seen.   
  
They usually didn’t talk much during breakfast, simply ate and sat in companionable silence. They had plenty of time to talk later.   
  
School, that day was as brutal as always. He had barely made it through the door before he was greeted with a face full of artificially flavoured ice.   
  
Thank god for spare clothes.   
  
Fridays were generally slow days, academically speaking. Especially since he had study hall the last two hours of the day. Unsupervised ones, of course. It was  _McKinley_ , after all.   
  
Kurt however, had a plan. With no homework, and with his friends busy with their own drama and significant others, he found a vacant corner in the library and sat, bringing out a small piece of fabric, thread and a needle. He’d gotten the idea last night, when he and Blaine discussed fashion. Blaine had admitted to not being very good at making clothes, though he liked them.   
  
So. Kurt would make some for him. He had a good eye for measurements, so he was sure it’d fit, he just wanted to surprise Blaine with it. Hence why he was doing it in school.  
  
Besides, it gave him something to focus on other than the smell of failure that seemed to be ever present in the school.  
  
Two hours later, he had a complete shirt and a vest made, with a pair of pants planned. He was eternally grateful that he’d put them away safely in his bag on his way to the car, because he suddenly found himself thrown against a locker. Again.  
  
“Watch where you’re going, fag!”   
  
Ugh, some nameless jock. They were everywhere, like cockroaches - constantly evading evolution. He pulled himself up, wincing at the pain in his back as he continued to the car. He’d get out of this town eventually. And Blaine would go with him, he knew it.  
  
The house was quiet when he entered, but soon enough Blaine appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He had a knack for that.   
  
“Hi Kurt.”   
  
“Hi. I’ve got something for you.”   
  
Blaine looked surprised, but delighted. “Really?” He bounced a little on his heels. Kurt didn’t even think, just picked him up and carried him upstairs - it had gotten to be a habit by now. The stairs were apparently a bit daunting if you were little.   
  
“Yes. And before I show you I just want you to know that you don’t have to take them if you don’t like them, but I hope you will. Like them.” He trailed off awkwardly and Blaine chuckled, situating himself on Kurt’s bed.   
  
He inhaled deeply, and pulled the clothes out before he could change his mind.  
  
Blaine’s face, when he realized what it was, was priceless. “Clothes?” He murmured, sounding both shocked and awestruck.  
  
“Mmhm.” He handed him them, and watched as Blaine took them gently, cradling them towards his chest with the same awestruck expression. “I made them earlier today. I’m planning a pair of pants if you want them as well, but I didn’t have time to start them.”   
  
Blaine’s head jerked up, and Kurt was somewhat alarmed to see that his eyes were wet. “You… you made them? For  _me_?”  
  
“Well… yes. You mentioned you like clothes but that you’re not very good at making them. I like making them, and it’s not like clothes for your take up a lot of fabric. Is that okay? I didn’t overstep some boundary? Oh god, it’s weird. It’s totally weird, right?”   
  
He was well on his way to freaking out, but then Blaine put down the clothes and practically threw himself at him. “Blaine?” He asked, hand coming up to brush against his little shoulder, looking down at Blaine who was currently pressed against his lower chest, hands fisted in his shirt in an awkward hug.  
  
“It’s not weird. It’s, it’s just, no one’s ever done something like this for me.  _Ever_.” Kurt’s eyes widened at the little sniffle that followed those words. “Thank you so, so much, Kurt. I love them.”   
  
He allowed his hand to settle properly, thumb brushing lightly against Blaine’s little curls. “Good.” He murmured, letting Blaine cling to him for a while.   
  
He seemed a bit flustered when they separated, and he quickly went back to looking at the clothes with reverent adoration.  
  
It wasn’t even a question whether or not Kurt should make more for him. It just was.


	5. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more angst in this one, sorry. Well, hurt/comfort.

_Clothes._  
  
Kurt kept making them, seemingly (and expressively) thrilled about it. He would ask Blaine about a certain outfit in a magazine, or Blaine would point out things from Kurt’s own wardrobe that he liked.   
  
He couldn’t help but feel a bit odd, getting so much but giving so little in return. Kurt kept assuring him that is was alright, that he enjoyed making them, and Blaine could see that he did.   
  
He just kind of wished he could do more for Kurt as well. He didn’t have any notable skills. He was good at borrowing, at climbing and at both reading and writing - and also singing, he supposed, but there wasn’t much he could think of doing to help Kurt.  
  
He supposed he could write him a poem. Or a song. Kurt would probably like that.  
  
Just the day after Kurt had given him the shirt and the vest, Blaine had sat on Kurt’s desk attentively watching Kurt create a new pair of pants with ease.   
  
He’d seen him make clothes for himself, a few times, and things for that singing club, but there was something special knowing he was making something for him. For Blaine.  
  
He wasn’t used to being cared for like this. Even when his parents had been around, they had been distant at best - caught up in their own lives with no kind words left for him.  
  
Being with Kurt was much, much better.  
  
He was startled out of his thoughts by a gentle tap on his head. “Hmm?”  
  
Kurt smiled at him from behind his computer. “I was wondering, you don’t really have a pair of proper shoes. I found a place that sells ones that would fit you. Would you like some? They’re not expensive at all.” The question was measured, slightly breathless. Blaine couldn’t help but stare.   
  
Kurt had turned the screen around towards him, and on it were a pair of  _perfect_  shoes. Like the ones they’d seen in the magazine (“It’s called  _Vogue_ , Blaine.”). But even if Kurt said they weren’t expensive, it just... it was too much. He felt flustered and too light.   
  
“Kurt, you can’t... it’s far too much.” Kurt’s face dropped for a second, and then he rolled his eyes in that way of his.   
  
“Blaine, it’s not. If you don’t want them, that’s fine, but I like making and buying things for others. And I can’t exactly buy shoes for my  _dad_ , now can I? He’d never wear them.” They both giggled at the image of Burt in a pair of fancy dress-shoes.  
  
“Still.” He said shifting. They looked  _so_  nice, but he simply couldn’t. “It feels like you’re doing everything for me and I can do anything for you.” He mumbled.  
  
Quiet. “Oh Blaine. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” It was soft, just as soft as the gentle touch to his head. It felt odd today, since Blaine had poked curiously at the hair gel while Kurt got dressed. From a safe distance, of course. His hair wasn’t curly now like it usually was, and he’d probably not use it again, unless he wanted to get really dressed up.   
  
“I don’t mean anything bad by it. I just wish I could do something for you in return.”  
  
Kurt blinked at him, surprised. “But Blaine, you do. I’ve been happier during these last few weeks than I have been for years. Having your around, being able to talk to someone who won’t judge me is worth everything to me.” He shrugged. “You do plenty.”  
  
He felt oddly choked up. “I... okay.” he murmured. Kurt perked up.   
  
“Okay? Okay as in I can get them for you? If you don’t want them, I’ll just get them and put them in the shelf as decoration.” He looked so excited, Blaine couldn't help the laugh that escaped.  
  
“Yes, okay. You can get them.” Kurt’s squeal was kind of adorable.   
  
“Yay!” His smile dimmed. “Blaine, you have to tell me if I’m... coming on too strong or being too intense, or something. I know I can be a bit too much sometimes.”   
  
He was quick to put a hand on Kurt’s own, looking up at him sharply. “You’re not! Definitely not.” He assured, and Kurt’s smile grew. God, why did he even think something like that?   
  
“Thanks, that’s sweet.” He patted Blaine’s hands, and then snapped his fingers. “So! Shoes. I could plan a perfect pair of pants and suspenders for these...”   
  
Blaine laughed.  
  
They gradually fell into habits together - Blaine properly “moving out” into Kurt’s room. He hadn’t actually been in his nest for over a week; Lately it felt enclosed, isolated. Glum. Blaine picked up the habit of sitting in one of Kurt’s shirt pockets, if he wore an item with those. Kurt always helped him up and down the stairs, and always remembered to bring food back upstairs, if Burt was home.   
  
Blaine now had plenty of clothes and bow ties.   
  
Sometimes Kurt would come home with a tear stained face and yet another bruise, And Blaine would crawl up and put his hands against his cheek, pressing close and murmuring words of comfort. These days were all too common.  
  
“I’m just so  _tired_  of it!” A heavy sigh. “I haven’t done anything to them, why won’t they just leave me  _alone_!”   
  
Kurt’s voice was high, sad. He was clutching a cup from the Lima Bean in one of his hands, slumped face down on his bed. Blaine felt slightly wary of the coffee.   
  
He himself was perched on a pillow, right next to Kurt’s upturned cheek. “I wish they’d leave you alone too.” He whispered, hand placed gingerly on Kurt’s jaw. “You don’t deserve it.”   
  
“Ugh.” Times like this, Blaine wasn’t really sure what to say. He’d asked if Kurt had told Burt once, and Kurt nearly had a panic attack.   
  
“Do you want to watch a movie? Something happy.” He patted his cheek lightly, using his palm to brush away a stray tear. Times like this, Blaine wished he was bigger.  
  
Kurt drew a deep breath, gave a watery smile and sat back up, clutching the coffee closer and taking a sip. “That sounds nice.” The coffee was placed on his bedside table.   
  
 _Relief_ _._  
  
Blaine wasn’t the only one giving comfort, however. Nights when Blaine dreamed about his mother, Kurt would wake and wrap him up close to his heart, lips sometimes pressing against the top of his head in a soothing way.   
  
“I know we didn’t get along, but I never thought they’d leave me.” He was forced out of his curled up position on the pillow by Kurt’s hands tugging him close to his chest.   
  
“It wasn’t right. And it’s their loss, leaving you. You deserve so much better, Blaine.”   
  
He sniffled. “I tried really hard, you know? I never went outside or into the house whenever they were around because they didn’t like how much I liked it. I don’t know what I did wrong.”  
  
Kurt’s hands tightened around him for a second, comforting. “You didn’t do anything wrong.  _They_  did. You can’t blame yourself for their actions.”   
  
Kurt sounded so wise, in that moment. Blaine still wasn’t sure if he believed that, though. He remembered his dad yelling and scowling at him; never happy no matter what Blaine did.   
  
Maybe Kurt was right. But sometimes he just  _missed_  them, even his dad.  
  
He hadn’t realised he was crying until Kurt pressed his lips against the top of his head, shushing him softly. “Blaine...”  
  
With his ministrations, it didn’t take long for Blaine to calm down and fall asleep. Times like these he felt too vulnerable, but he trusted Kurt. Trusted him not to hurt him.  
  
He’d listen whenever Blaine wanted to talk about them, would whisper words of comfort whenever Blaine felt much too small for the world.  
  
Mostly though, they kept happy. They even had a pillow fight, even though it didn’t go over too well. Blaine got tangled up in the sheets and Kurt inhaled a feather. Blaine had freaked out a bit. Kurt had coughed.  
  
But obviously, things weren’t going to stay the same forever.


	6. Confrontations

Burt had recently gone back to working full time at the garage, heart and body cleared by several stress tests and helped by Kurt’s cooking.  
  
Rabbit food.   
  
Still though, the guys at the garage were helpful and would sometimes chase him away early.   
  
This was one of those days.  
  
“Christ boss, it’s a slow day. Go home to your kid.”   
  
He didn’t even have a chance to give his input before Jim chimed in. “Yeah, we’ll take care of things here. Not much to do anyway.”   
  
Rick grinned and slapped his back. “Shoo.”   
  
These guys frustrated him to no end. They were also like family, both to him and Kurt.   
  
“Yeah, yeah. I’m goin’.”   
  
“Say hi to Kurt!”  
  
“Eat your greens!”  
  
Beyond annoying, sometimes.   
  
Though he didn’t mind going home early, he’d never let them hear it. He’d never work a full day in his life again if they did.   
  
Still, this way; he got to spend more time with his kid. Burt wasn’t stupid, he knew Kurt didn’t have it easy in that school of his. Hell, he remembered how it was when he went there, people weren’t exactly forgiving if you were different.   
  
And Kurt was as different as they came, not that it was a bad thing. Not to him.  
  
Kurt wouldn’t tell him anything, but come evening he noticed how his kid never wore the same clothes as in the morning. Fashion statement, he said.  _Bullshit_.   
  
He knew he was being bullied. He’d tried to talk to that principal of his, but that had done squat.   
  
Lately though, Kurt seemed happier. A lot happier. First Burt figured it was that Glee club, but he never saw any of its members hanging around.   
  
Kurt was different like that, as well. He didn’t go to parties, he didn’t drink (except for that one time they never spoke of.), didn’t get into trouble and never stayed out late.   
  
Lately, Burt didn’t think he’d been out at all. He stayed holed up in his room most of the time, and Burt should probably be worried about that. Hell, he was, but Kurt wasn’t misbehaving and he was happy. If staying in his room helped he wouldn’t take that away from him.  
  
It was just the lack of friends that worried him. He never heard Kurt talk about them anymore, and he didn’t have those loud girls over. He didn’t go over to their places, either.   
  
He wasn’t sure what to make of it.   
  
He’d tried, awkwardly, to remind Kurt about stranger danger and talking to people over the internet, just last week, burt Kurt had just huffed and gone into a tirade about being responsible and not  _stupid, dad, oh my god_.   
  
That night, there’d been more vegetables on his plate than usual.    
  
So maybe Burt had made a habit of getting home a bit earlier some days, offering to help with dinner (and promptly being shooed out of the kitchen by a shrill, stern voice.) and suggesting movies to watch together.   
  
Hell, no one could blame him for not trying. If Kurt would just  _talk_ to him, damn stubborn kid.   
  
Last week he’d gotten home early to Kurt cutting out tiny patterns from scraps of fabric. Apparently making scaled clothes before full sized ones “helped the creative process”, or something.  
  
Sometimes he really didn’t know how to keep up with him.  
  
The house was still when he got home, closing the door quietly for once. As usual, Kurt wasn’t on the ground floor. His bedroom door was shut.  
  
Not a problem.   
  
Maybe he took the stairs a bit quieter than usual. No one could prove it.   
  
“Hey, kiddo, I thought--” Pause. Hand still on the doorknob to the now open door.  
  
Several things happened at the same time.   
  
There was a startled squeak and a quick movement, Burt catching a flash of something red before it disappeared under a pile of blankets. Kurt jolted, shrieked and nearly fell off the edge of the bed.  
  
It would have been funny if Burt hadn’t been so damn confused.   
  
“D-Dad!”  
  
“Kiddo. What’s going on here?”   
  
His kid seemed flustered. He thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t walked in on him up on some guy. “Nothing! Y-You’re home early. Is everything okay?”  
  
Trying to change the subject, too. “Everything’s fine, kid. You didn’t answer my question.” He raised an eyebrow.   
  
Kurt sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” At the shake of his head, Kurt’s dipped. “Uhm, could you sit, dad?”   
  
Weird. “Uh, sure.” He seated himself on the edge of the bed, eyes flickering to the duvet. It wasn’t moving. “So, it ain’t a pet you’ve got there, right? Cause you know you’re allergic, kid, and--”   
  
“No, no! It’s-- “ Kurt glanced up at him, and Burt had a sudden image of a four year old Kurt, sniffling with itchy red eyes, stubbornly holding on to the neighbour’s cat. “Blaine.” He murmured.   
  
“Blaine?” He repeated, completely confused.  
  
Kurt wasn’t even looking at him now, he was looking down at the duvet, hand reaching in and stilling. “Maybe it’s time you two met, Blaine. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”  
  
And Burt watched as the blanket shifted slightly, and Kurt’s hand came back out, slowly, uncovering a tiny little human hand clutching one of his fingers.   
  
An arm soon followed, clad in a black little sweater, and then a pair of legs clad in red. A mop of brown, curly hair sat on top of a male, frightened looking little face.   
  
Huh. Maybe he was too quick on that guy thing.   
  
He watched as the thing jumped to Kurt’s lap, and as Kurt wrapped his hands around it - small, to Burt, but huge-looking around the little fellow - and held him close. Protectively.   
  
He must have gotten knocked out at the garage.   
  
"Dad, uhm, this is Blaine.”  
  
He stared. The Blaine shifted closer to his son’s chest. “Dad?” Kurt repeated, and Burt shook his head.   
  
“Uh, this... okay. I really dunno what to say here, Kurt.” God, he felt so confused.  
  
“Blaine’s a borrower, dad. He’s lived here long before we did, and I just met him a few months ago. We... didn’t know how to tell you, so we didn’t, and god, just say something.” Burt reacted at that, knowing that whenever his son got ranty, it wasn’t a good thing.  
  
It usually meant a large credit-card bill.   
  
“He’s tiny.”   
  
“Yes, and you’re being  _rude_ , dad!” A huff. Burt recognized the danger; more of this meant brussel sprouts at dinner.  
  
He looked properly at the little boy - he kind of looked his son’s age, but he wasn’t bigger than six inches. He just looked... downsized. His skin was a bit darker than Kurt’s, but right now his face was ashen and terrified.   
  
Of him, Burt realized, and  _crap_ , if that didn’t make him feel bad.   
  
“So, you live here too, then?” He awkwardly brought a hand up to scratch at his neck. The boy didn’t look up.   
  
“Y-yes, sir.” He sounded kind of really tiny. Kurt must have noticed, ‘cause he kind of glared at Burt and mouthed,  _be nice_.  
  
“Uh, okay. Christ kid, you don’t have to look so terrified, I’m not gonna eat you. I’m just... trying to take this in.” He looked pleadingly at his son.  _Help me out here_.  
  
“Blaine lived in the walls before, and he lived off things we forgot or didn’t use. He’s never done anything bad.” The boy was still clutching at Kurt’s hands, looking unsure but earnest.   
  
“I-I promise I wouldn’t hurt anyone, sir.   
  
Burt couldn’t help but snort. “I don’t mean no offence, kid, but I don’t think you could hurt anyone even if you wanted to.”   
  
Kurt sent him a disapproving look, but the kid relaxed, so he took it as a win.   
  
“Wait, before? Where do you live now, then? Your family move somewhere else?” The mood shifted at that.  
  
“Ah, no. My parents left along with the family that lived here before you. I-I, Kurt asked me to move out into his room a while ago.”   
  
His parents had left him?  _Hell_. Judging by Kurt’s expression, that was a conversation best saved for later. “Good for, uh, you. Not living in the wall and that.” He looked at his son.   
  
“This is why you’ve been happier these last two months, isn’t it?”   
  
His kid’s blush said it all.   
  
Burt sighed, running a hand over his head. “I suppose it’s about time I say welcome to the family, then.”   
  
At that, both boys looked at him, Blaine looking more shocked than Kurt. Kurt mostly looked fond.   
  
Maybe he could use this to win a little salt into his food for dinner.   
  
Then again. he didn’t want to risk it.   
  
“...Sir?”   
  
“It’s Burt, kiddo. And... look, I’m still kinda freaking out over tiny people existing thing, but as I see it; You make my son happy. This is your home. That makes you part of this family.”  
  
He’d never been on the receiving end of such grateful looks, before. Not even when he brought that Navigator for Kurt’s sweet sixteen.   
  
“So, what’s for dinner?”   
  
Kurt threw a pillow at him.


	7. Heavy Heart

Eventually, Blaine stopped freaking out everytime Burt came into a room, and he stopped trying to hide.  
  
Mainly because Burt was kind of really nice, even nicer than he’d initially thought. He’d panicked a bit once when Burt picked him up, hand much bigger than Kurt’s, but had relaxed when Burt just helped him up on the couch.  
  
It wasn’t like he really _needed_  the help, but it was sort of nice to be helped anyway.  
  
Burt was kind of awesome.  
  
And a plus to Burt knowing was that Blaine now got included in... well, everything; he ate with them, watched TV with them and sometimes when Burt got home before Kurt, he’d even just sit around and talk just to him.  
  
The one Sunday Burt had gone to the garage despite it being closed; Kurt had made them sandwiches. Blaine hadn’t expected to go  _out_ , but Kurt offered him his pocket and Blaine sat, enraptured with his surroundings, as they walked (well, Kurt walked) to the garage.  
  
“Kurt, are you sure it’s safe?” He felt excited, but somewhat apprehensive as well. What if someone saw him?  
  
“Don’t worry. It’s just dad there, he got a car in yesterday that he’s ridiculously excited about. The guys are all busy with their families today.”  
  
The garage smelled... weird, but not particularly unpleasant.  
  
“Hey kiddo!” Blaine peeked around, and saw Burt leaned over a car with its front up.  
  
“Hi dad. Blaine and I brought you lunch.”  
  
“Thanks. Blaine, don’t fall into the motor.”  
  
Lunch went, as lunch goes, and while Blaine was curious about the garage the walk home was much more interesting. He’d only ever gone out into the backyard before, with its large fence going round it, limiting his views.  
  
God, what he’d give to be big so he could walk around the world like Kurt did.  
  
He’d told Kurt this, and had gotten a strange, yet fond look in return.  
  
Some days, it _was_  kind of nice to be little. There was the obvious advantage of being held by Kurt’s hands, and the morning when Blaine had woken before Kurt, he’d sat on Kurt’s chest, staring at him with a mischievous smile, patiently until Kurt woke up.  
  
Kurt’s eyes blinked open, and upon seeing Blaine, he groaned. “That is so creepy, Blaine.”  
  
“You love me anyway.”  
  
The air changed at that, Kurt suddenly blushing bright, before sporting a closed off expression. “Yeah.” He mumbled, and Blaine felt an odd swoop in his stomach.  
  
Then Kurt turned over and Blaine ended up tangled in the sheets.  
  
Even after he got to feel more relaxed around the house, Blaine couldn’t help but stay close to Kurt. Whenever they joined Burt at the TV Blaine would automatically sit in Kurt’s lap, sometimes even curled up in his shirt pocket.  
  
He’d heard Burt snort something about a puppy once when he did it, but he didn’t really understand the joke.  
  
One of those evenings, he was comfortably resting against Kurt’s stomach, enjoying the feel of Kurt’s hand draped over him like a blanket. He’d been dozing on and off for the past hour, catching a few sentences here and there from either Burt or Kurt.  
  
“...Asleep.”  
  
Kurt’s voice, Blaine thought groggily. He had a nice voice. He couldn’t be bothered to move, insanely comfortable where he was. Instead he kept his eyes closed, about to drift off to sleep again as Burt’s voice cut through the haze of sleep.  
  
“...Love him, don’t you?”  
  
Blaine kept still, confused. He didn’t hear Burt’s voice like that often, usually only when he spoke about Kurt’s mother. Soft, with something he wasn’t sure how to place.  
  
“Of course I do, dad. He’s my best friend.” Kurt’s voice, and Blaine felt the vibrations of it more than the voice itself, soft and quiet.  
  
“Not what I meant, kiddo.”  
  
“I... What do you want me to say?” Kurt’s voice sounded a bit off, but the vibrations were the same.  
  
“The truth, kid. Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at him. Hell, the way he looks at you.”  
  
Were they talking about him?  
  
Kurt’s hand tightened slightly and Kurt’s thumb brushed over the back of his head; a habit they both enjoyed when Blaine was resting like this, the pressure light enough as to not wake him if he was asleep, but firm enough to feel if he wasn’t.  
  
“I... Yes. Yes, okay? I love him. I can’t help it.” Oh. There was the swooping in his stomach again. “He’s... everything, dad.”  
  
“He also smaller than my palm.”  
  
So they were talking about him. But that meant, Kurt loved him? Also, _ouch_ , Burt.  
  
“I know. It’s not... it’s complicated. I know nothing can happen between us, okay? But I love him.” Kurt sighed, Blaine moving up -- then down with the motion. “I don’t even know if he feels the same way.”  
  
“Pretty sure he does, kiddo.”  
  
That was the end of that, and Blaine’s mind reeled in the silence that followed.  
  
If only he’d been big. He kept wishing for it, every night, but nothing ever happened. Wishing worked, he knew, it did for his late aunt Helen; who’d been so big when Blaine was little - a whole eight inches, until the morning when she wasn’t even six.  
  
 _So why couldn’t he be big?_  
  
It wasn’t much longer until Blaine shifted and opened his eyes, and Kurt brought him up to his - their - room when Burt told them to go to bed. Somehow Blaine didn’t think he would sleep much that night.  
  
Later, pressed comfortably against Kurt’s cheek and jaw, feet resting against his neck, Blaine felt bold.  
  
“Kurt?”  
  
“Hmm?” So not asleep, then.  
  
Blaine’s heart hammered, and before he could change his mind he leaned in, pressing his lips against Kurt’s cheek in a dry kiss.  
  
Kurt’s breath hitched, index finger stilling against Blaine’s curls, where it had been tracing random, lulling patterns. “B-Blaine?”  
  
“I heard you and Burt earlier.” Blaine could feel Kurt’s jaw tense. “J-Just wanted you to know I love you too.”  
  
The words made Kurt relax, and he felt him swallow, and then he was turning slightly, pressing his lips against the top of Blaine’s head in a now familiar motion.  
  
If things had been different, they would have kissed. Properly.  
  
Nothing more was said, but Kurt’s hand came to rest over him, first hesitant and then firmer, and Blaine soon fell asleep covered in warmth and Kurt’s grounding scent.  
  
 _Please, please let him be big_.


	8. Big Wishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a great story to write, and if you read the whole thing; thank you.

The conversation with his dad left a lump in his throat, big, painful and making it hard to swallow. He knew, of course he knew, but admitting it, admitting that he and Blaine would never happen... it hurt. More than anything.  
  
It felt like a relief to go to bed, but he couldn’t help the thoughts that came when Blaine pressed close to his cheek.  _Couldn’t, won’t, never._  
  
His dad’s words echoed in his head, but he stubbornly pushed them away. Blaine didn’t love him, of course he didn’t.  
  
Kurt’s stomach did a sudden swoop as he felt Blaine’s lips press against his cheek - and that was... new.  
  
 _Oh_ , oh god, he’d heard. He’d been awake, he’d --  
  
Been in love with Kurt, too.  
  
There was nothing he could say to that. Instead he cradled Blaine closer, dropping a brief kiss into his hair.  
  
In a perfect world, Kurt would have kissed his lips.  
  
Blaine seemed fine, comfortable even, fingers wrapping around Kurt’s middle finger with a little sigh, falling asleep even as Kurt watched.  
  
 _Couldn’t_.  
  
He startled when he saw a stray tear fall onto Blaine’s head, thankfully not waking him. So that was why everything suddenly got blurry.  
  
He tilted his head to the side, allowing the tears to fall freely, quietly.  
  
It took a long time for him to fall asleep that night.  
  
The first thing that registered when he awoke the next morning was  _warm_. It felt like his bed had been turned into a furnace. He thought about kicking the covers off, but he felt so comfortable. Instead, he sighed and squirmed closer to his pillow.  
  
Odd. The heat seemed to be coming from his pillow.  
  
Kurt’s head was pleasantly hazy, still half-asleep. Wow, he felt safe. He slowly became aware of two firm arms, wrapped snugly around his waist, legs tangled in his own and steady, slow breaths coming out against his collarbone.  
  
What?  
  
Waking up didn’t usually feel like this. Was-- was there a  _body_  in his bed? A  _him_  sized body?  
  
Where was  _Blaine_?  
  
Suddenly and startlingly awake, Kurt jolted up with a loud shriek, eyes snapping open. The body pressed against him own was unceremoniously pushed off the bed.  
  
He scrambled back, not even flinching as his bruises connected with the wall behind him.  
  
The figure jerked awake in the fall, head shooting up and looking around confusedly.  
  
Kurt stared. God, he  _knew_  those curls. He knew that face, those eyes. He was just used to them being much  _smaller_.  
  
He was vaguely aware of his bedroom door being flung open by his dad, pyjamas askew looking worried and confused. “What the hell is--” He broke off, staring just as hard at the boy as Kurt was.  
  
“...Huh. So. Not so little anymore.” Oh  _dad_. The figure on the floor raised a hand, resting it against the bed frame with wide eyes.  
  
Kurt was somewhat relieved to note that he’d taken the covers with him when he fell, because he was very much naked.  
  
“I’m just... gonna go downstairs.” He saw his dad out of the corner of his eye, awkwardly scratching at his head before disappearing out of view.  
  
Silence.  
  
“Blaine.” He rasped, wincing at the sound of his voice.  
  
Hazel eyes met his, and Kurt knew for sure. “Kurt. Kurt! I-I’m big. I’m  _big_.” Blaine’s brilliant, happy smile what was made him finally move, ignoring Blaine’s outreached hand in favor of bodily throw himself at him - both of them connecting with the floor with a loud thump.  
  
 _Oh_ , so that was what kissing felt like. What kissing  _Blaine_  felt like.  
  
Kurt never wanted to stop.  
  
"Kurt, Kurt --" Blaine broke off, gasping, clinging. "It worked, it really worked."   
  
Kurt felt loose, unhinged. It wasn't a bad feeling. "What worked?" The question came as a soft murmur, against Blaine's cheek. Something had worked, obviously, and truthfully Kurt couldn't care less what it was.   
  
"Wishing!" He looked at him them, meeting Blaine's bright, warm eyes. "I wished to be big, and last night it finally worked. I'm--" he broke off, looking so wonderfully excited and awed. "I can kiss you now. I can hug you, and hold you, and hold your hand properly and go outside with you and--"  
  
Kurt couldn't help himself, he pressed in; silencing Blaine with another lingering kiss. "'m sorry, that was rude."  
  
"Be rude a little more, then." A cheeky grin, and then Blaine was kissing him, long, soft and sweet.

  
He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, Blaine still tangled up in the sheets, arms wrapped tightly around Kurt, Kurt’s own around Blaine’s shoulders, hands buried in his curls.

Long enough for his dad to come back upstairs.

“Oh, I didn’t need to see that.” He and Blaine broke off, and Kurt let out a little giggle at his dad’s groan. “There’s... toast downstairs. Lots of... regular sized toast, yeah.”

Kurt and Blaine stayed exactly where they were.

 

 

\----

 

 

Months later, Kurt’s grandparents watched in complete and utter confusion as Blaine (Such a sweet, gentlemanly boy, they’d said, proud of their Burt for taking his son’s boyfriend in.) and Kurt both broke down over Kurt’s Christmas present to Blaine.

What was so funny about a jar of hair gel?


End file.
